


Thanksgiving

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/M, Romance, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:17:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair and Jim join Jim's captain for Thanksgiving dinner</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanksgiving

## Thanksgiving

by Dana

Author's website:  <http://fateordestiny.com>

This story is a sequel to: Tea and Consensual Reality 

* * *

Robin knocked on Blair's office door at 10:30 in the morning. "Your partner is crazy," Robin said as Blair opened the door and she ran past him and collapsed in the metal chair. 

"What did Jim do this time?" Blair asked. 

"It was a normal boring morning, checking email, answering the phone, etc. As I was checking the terminal for information about an unfinished case, he drank out of my coffee cup and he tried to take a bite of my donut. He must have touched my shoulder or arm at least twenty times. The men in the department probably think the man is trying to get me in his bed," Robin said. 

"I told him that he needs to sense you," Blair said. "He has to taste you. Would you rather he drank your coffee or kissed you?" 

"Did he drink your coffee?" 

Blair pulled his chair to the side of his desk so he wouldn't be looking over the mess on his desk and made eye contact with Robin. "He didn't know that he needed all five senses to make a good connection. I was living with him soon after I started helping him with his senses. I wouldn't have known if he finished my coffee. Jim was such a neatnik that he would had denied it." Blair sat on the chair leaned forward giving Robin his complete attention. 

"I can't let him eat my food, drink my coffee, and touch me constantly." 

"That's part of guiding him. He needs to feel connected to you. I told him that I wasn't jealous of you and that he needed to be able to make that connection with someone else because I couldn't be with him 24/7. He was the one insisted that I quit working in police department and go back to teaching." 

"Can't he be less touchy?" 

"Jim is very touchy-feely. He'll back off when he feel comfortable with you." 

"What should I do to make him more comfortable?" 

"Go out to lunch with him. The four of us could get together for dinner and movies a couple of nights a week. Ask Jay and we'll decide on a time." 

"Jay is from the old country. He'll lose it if a man touches his wife even casually. Moslem women aren't supposed to even show their eyes to another man. I should have my head covered, always look down and keep an arms distance from men other than my husband." 

"Being Moslem, it must be hard for you to touch Jim's back or arm when he needs to redirected. Would you like Jim to get another partner? I don't want him to cause for your marriage to fall apart." 

"I think the four of us going out is a great idea. Jay will see how devoted Jim is to you and he'll no longer be jealous. I don't see many married couples that touch as often as you and the eye contact you make puts Jay and I to shame." 

"Is Tuesday night good? I'll make vegetable curry and jasmine rice. We can see a movie on the fifty-inch TV screen. Tanya can watch her brother a few hours. We can put a few blankets and pillows in the home office if they need to sleep." 

"Tonight?" Robin leaned forward. 

"Sure. We need to get Jim to stop zoning out as soon as possible. To do that he needs to feel comfortable with you." 

"Sounds great. I'll bring the kids over after I get home from work. I'll leave the address on the refrigerator so Jay can join us. He can always call me on the cell phone if he has questions." 

"I have to get ready for a class." 

"I understand. Thanks, Blair. Should I bring something or will you cook?" 

"I'll cook. I can throw together some lentil soup and chana masala. I'm glad that I invested in a rice cooker. Since becoming vegetarian, I can't survive without it." 

"I'll bring some bread," Robin said. "See you tonight." Robin left the office in as much of a hurry as when she entered it. Robin knocked on Captain Dawkins' door when she arrived back at the station. "Sir, I can't work with Ellison." 

"Neither can anybody else. Before Sandburg, he was unpartnered because no one wanted to work with him. Why do you think Captain Banks broke the fraternization policy for him?" 

"The man is a nut case." Whittier felt stupid; Captain Dawkins was a click away from bringing up Ellison's record. She could mention the coffee or the constant touching; it seemed petty although Indian men have killed their wives for less. 

"Tell me something I don't know. He's also one of my best detective." Dawkins opened the door for her. 

* * *

After Blair finished teaching his last class for the day, he packed up his backpack and head home to cook. The soup was done and he just threw canned chickpeas and spices into a pan to make chana masala. "I know that a traditional Indian meal has lots of small dishes served together." 

"Chickpeas are very traditional. The many small dishes are only served at special occasions like a wedding," Robin said. "For a family dinner, one dish is fine. Many nights all we have is soup." Tonya and Scott, Robin's children, turned the large screen television to the cartoon channel. "Do your homework." 

"Yes, Mom," Scott said as he opened his book bag and his older sister followed suit. 

"I'll help you in the kitchen." 

Scott came into the kitchen and asked, "Do you have soda?" 

"No. Would you like water, lemonade, ice tea or hot tea?" Blair asked. 

"Hot tea. Lipton. None of that weird herbal stuff," Scott said. 

"Fine." Blair put up a teakettle. "Where's Jim?" 

"He was talking to Captain Dawkins when I made my escape," Robin said. "If he doesn't learn to manage his temper, he'll be looking for a new job." 

"I'll have to get my book published." Blair served the soup as Jim unlocked the door. As soon as he put down the ladle, Blair greeted Jim with a hug and kiss. "Darling, I'm serving dinner. Robin left a note with her husband to join us when he gets home." 

Scott whined as Jim gave Blair a long sloppy kiss. 

"You don't have to look," Jim snapped at the boy. "Dinner smells wonderful. We should invite Robin and the kids over more." 

"Robin and I talked about that. We think it would help Robin and you if you spent time together off the job." 

"Robin told me that Jay was jealous of her last partner," Jim said. "I think it's a great idea. Chief, you're a genius." 

"That is why I make the big bucks," Blair teased. 

"The university pays you peanuts," Jim said. 

"Whatever," Blair said. "Would you like a beer or lemonade?" 

"Water with lemon, no sugar," Jim said. 

"No problem." Blair kissed him briefly as he walked by him. After Blair had served the food family style, he joined everyone at the table. "Robin and I were talking. Maybe I wasn't cut out to be a teacher after all, Narcotics could use a man with my talents." 

"Over my dead body," Jim said. 

"I loved being on the force. I had the guys in Major Crimes wrapped around my little fingers." 

"You even enjoyed being in the academy. I was sure that they would give you shit for living with me." 

"A few of the instructors knew your reputation and wondered how I turned that beast into a pussy cat. They knew from the incident with Kincaid and The Sunshine Patriots that I was as tough as anyone there; no one doubted it for a minute. Many other cops hide behind their guns and shot at the first moment of doubt. They knew that I wouldn't crack under pressure and shoot without warning. I had the respect of the instructors: man, many of them weren't as brave as I. I went into the line of fire more than most veterans. No one cared who I slept with." 

"In Cascade, gay bashing capital of the Northwest?" Robin asked. 

"If anything, I think the men respected me for being open about my relationship with Ellison. It helped my case with the fantasy about Ellison's enhanced senses. I explained to a few of the instructors that Ellison had two (maybe three) enhanced senses so it was a natural leap to think he had the others. My infatuation with Ellison caused me to make him into a hero. It made me seem like less of a fraud if I could convince people that I truly believed it for a time." 

"He's good at obfuscating," Jim said. "Only twice did the persecution try to use his fraudulent dissertation as proof that he wasn't a reliable witness. Sandburg explained that he was in court suing the publisher for submitting it to the university without his consent. He never signed anything with a publishing company and the document was for his own use. No fraud was actually committed." 

Blair explained that his mother submitted the document to a publisher without his consent and how he argued with the publisher that it wasn't ready for publication. He told the press it was a fraud out of panic because his friends were being shot. It wasn't ready for publication, but it wasn't fraudulent. Rainer may have asked him to leave, but the university never asked for grant money back. The administration had should never have taken a third-party document. 

"He could make you believe that the moon was made of green cheese," Tanya, Robin's daughter, said staring at Blair tossing his loose shoulder length hair out of his face. 

"Sandburg is a smooth talker," Jim slapped Blair on the shoulder. "Now, if he would listen. When did you ever listen to me when I said stay in the truck?" 

"When it suited me to do so." Blair left the table to make more lemonade for Robin's children. Blair did the dinner dishes as Jim put on a movie for Robin and the children. 

Jay arrived while they were near the end of "Die Hard". Robin was sitting on the large sofa alone. Blair and Jim were snuggling in the smaller love seat. Jay sat on the sofa several inches from his wife as the children laid on the floor in front of the television. 

"Jay, would you like some lentil soup or tea?" Blair asked getting up from Jim's lap. 

"More soup, please, if you don't mind," Jay said. 

"Please, sit at the table," Jim said. "I don't want to be picking up all over the house." 

"Neatnik," Blair whispered into Robin's ear. 

Jay went into the kitchen. "It feels good to be working again." 

Blair placed a hot bowl of soup in front of Jay. "There's bread on the table. Enjoy." Blair returned to the loveseat beside Jim and cuddling. In a few moments, Blair was in Jim's lap and Jim was messing with Blair's hair. 

"Thanks," Jay said taking his bowl to the sofa. "We eat fish and chicken. Beef isn't good for the digestive system." 

"He means he can't digest it," Robin said. 

"I didn't eat beef growing up," Jay said put the food on his lap. "We had lamb at special events. Most days, it was dal and rice. We felt lucky to have oranges." 

"I thought your family was well-to-do," Jim said. 

"By Indian standards," Jay said. "They sent me to university and they did call the States often to arrange our marriage. We didn't waste fuel and food like they do here. We felt fortunate to have bikes. Blair, you didn't have to cook Indian cuisine; I'm willing to try new things." 

"Robin and I think it would be good idea for us to get together once or twice a week," Blair said. 

"I love it when the wives gang up on us," Jay said. 

"Who made me the wife?" Blair said putting his hands on his hips. 

"You did serve dinner," Jim teased. "I wasn't the one that wore a dress Halloween. Besides, you were in my lap." 

"It doesn't work the other way around. I can't help it that you eat too many donuts." Blair denied the obvious height difference, returning to Jim's lap and snuggling with him. 

Jay laughed. "Jim, how do feel about us getting together?" 

"I think it would be a good idea. That way you know that I don't have designs on your wife," Jim said. 

"You don't look like a faggot." Jay finished his soup and put bowl on the coffee table and moved further away from Jim and Blair. 

"What are we supposed to look like?" Jim asked as he got up to put the bowl in the kitchen. 

"I don't know. You look any middle-aged cop," Jay said. "Beer belly, short hair and that look like you could sleep over a week." 

"Or longer. Jim does have that bear needing to hibernate look." Blair stated turning his head toward Jim to steal a quick kiss. "He means like me." 

"Baby, you're very pretty. Would anyone like a beer since I'm up?" Jim asked. 

"I could use one," Blair said. "It's against the Quran to drink alcohol." 

"I didn't mean any offense," Jim said. "Would you like more tea or a lemonade?" 

"Lemonade," Jay said. "Make it sweet." 

"Will do." Jim made several glasses of lemonade and brought them to the living room on a tray. He returned to the kitchen to get his beer. Jim realized that he had forgotten to get Blair a beer, but Blair had already helped himself to lemonade. 

"Robin's partner, back when we first married, was flaming," Jay said. "He acted like a fucking girl. No offense, Blair." 

"How long were you partnered with him?" Jim asked. 

"Too long." Robin took a sip of lemonade. "I vomited the first time he dragged me into a gay bar. I was nave in those days. I could handle blood and guts, but two men groping made me lose my cookies." 

"Our society is sick," Blair said putting his hand on Jim's arm. "You can shot him, but you better not kiss him." 

"The movie has been over awhile. Would you like to see something else or do you want to head back? It's a school night," Jim asked collecting the empty glasses. 

"We better head back," Robin said. "Kids, get your things together. We'll see another movie with Blair and Jim next week." 

"Sure thing," Jim said. "Can the kids handle scary or should I stay with action/adventure?" 

"They don't mind horror," Robin said. "Jay can't stand senseless violence." 

"'Alien' is out," Jim said. 

"I want to see 'Aliens Resurrection'," Scott said. 

"We'll see all four movies," Jim said. "We can have a marathon Sunday." 

"And miss the football game," Jay teased; earlier in the night, he said that he didn't like American football. 

"We'll toss a coin," Jim said. 

"You promised that you would join Wilcox and Brown for the game at Brown's apartment," Blair said. 

"We'll invite them. We have a bigger set. 'Aliens' will have to wait until another Sunday," Jim said. 

After Jay and his family left, Blair put the dishes into the dishwasher. "Honey, how do you think it went?" 

"Good. I doubt Jay thinks I have designs for his wife now." 

"Now, that he thinks you're a flaming homosexual." 

"He made the remark that you were." 

"Whatever?" Blair didn't want Robin's husband to think that Jim was flirting with her. Moslem men were known to be rather jealous and it wasn't unheard of to maim or kill a woman for allowing another man to look at her. 

"Chief, are you going to the precinct after your class?" 

"I promised Wilcox and Brown that I would help them with their paperwork. I could help you with yours and we could go on a long lunch." 

"Sounds wonderful." Jim kissed the back of Blair's neck. 

"Are you feeling more comfortable about letting Robin help you with your senses?" Blair turned to Jim and wrapped his arms around him. 

"Yes, meeting Jay was a great idea. Thanks, Chief." 

"Anytime. Do we really act married?" 

Jim picked up Blair. "Yes, Sweetheart. We acted married long before we were sleeping together." 

"The way Jay looked at me. You would think I was wearing a housedress." 

"You would look cute in one." 

"I look cuter naked." 

"Very true." Jim followed him to the bedroom, pushed him toward the bed and started to undress him. "Don't go to the station tomorrow." 

"I like hanging out in the precinct. Is the heater fixed?" 

"It was even hotter today." 

"I promised the guys that I come in and type. I'll wear some threadbare jeans and a tie dyed t-shirt." 

"And love beads." 

"If it would turn you on." Blair kissed Jim's briefly and started to move his hands over Jim's back. "Do I look like a stereotypical faggot?" 

"Blair, you have an unique look. You're not a stereotypical anything. You defy definition." 

"I don't know that is an insult or a compliment." 

Jim planted butterfly kisses along Blair's back. "I mean it in the best way." 

"Robin thought you were my first. I dated many women and slept with a few. Although I wasn't as pure as the November snow, you gave me my first taste of love. You opened my eyes to a whole new world." 

"Chief, people are always going to see me as the man in this relationship. You're prettier and younger than I. You weren't offended?" 

"A little when Jay said that fucking girl remark. I hate having to put my male ego on the backburner. I always have to be your pretty little boy toy." 

"Sometimes it doesn't pay to fight. Baby, don't let it get you down." Jim rolled over and faced Blair and worked his way down Blair's body with his tongue. "You're beautiful and you taste so good." 

Blair gasped as Jim's tongue circle the tip of his cock. Blair couldn't ask for a more dedicated lover. As Blair felt his cock hard and pulse under Jim's talented tongue, he forgot about the world. His breath quickened as his orgasm intensified. What did he care about stereotypes if Jim could make him feel this good on the regular basis? As Jim put his mouth around Blair's hardness, Blair pulled Jim's hair lightly trying to keep himself from pulling Jim's closer and suffocating him with his need. "Jim," Blair hollered as Jim took in more of him. Blair moaned lightly until he screamed when his body shook as Jim tried to swallow all that he released. Blair pulled Jim's head up. "That was incredible." 

"I'm glad that you liked it." Jim kissed Blair deeply. 

Blair pull Jim deeper like he was trying to suck out his tonsils tasting Jim's essence mixed with his fluid. "You leave me speechless." 

"I'm glad." Jim smiled as he kissed butt cheeks. Anything that made Blair speechless for a second was a good thing, not that he didn't love the sound of Blair's voice. His voice grounded him. Home was the sound of Blair's heartbeat, the pulse of his body, the salty taste of his skin, his musk. _Chief, you make me speechless, too._

"I want you inside me." When Jim was stuck at the station late or overnight on a stake out, Blair put his fingers up his bottom thinking about Jim's cock being inside him. He had the best organisms from having his prostate brushed against; nothing else was as intense. "You feel so good." 

Jim kissed his back as his fingers moved over Blair's bottom. "You're so beautiful. I love you so much." 

"I should be more aggressive in our love making." 

"You don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Sex isn't a contest. You shouldn't feel forced to do anything. I love touching you. Allow yourself to be putty in my hands. I don't mind taking the lead as long as I have you to guide me." 

"You have such wonderful hands. I feel bless each time you touch me." 

"You feel so good. I can never get enough of you." Jim started licking Blair's rump. 

Blair moaned softly as he relaxed into the soft bed, blessed to have such attentive lover. 

* * *

Blair put on a tie-dyed t-shirt, threadbare jeans, and Native American jewelry including a jade necklace and matching dangling earrings that could easily be seen through his loose curly hair. To complete the look, he put on moccasins. Blair went to the kitchen finding that Jim made a pot of coffee. "Good morning, Love. I didn't hear you get up," Blair said as he poured himself some coffee. 

"You're going to the precinct dressed like that," Jim said as he poured himself a bowl of cereal. 

Blair batted his long eyelashes. "You called me a neo-hippie, witchdoctor punk and insulted my taste in music when we met." 

"And you called me behavioral throwback to a pre-civilized breed of man," Jim said. "I didn't take too kindly to the caveman remark." 

"I could put on a hemp vest." Blair used the downstairs bathroom and looked in the mirror a long time after shaving and combing his hair. His hair was longer than it had been in a long time and it seemed so curly. Cleanly shaven he looked very young; Jim would say angelic. Blair looked at the blue-eyed young man in the mirror and wondered how other people saw him. He was offended that Jay dismissed him implying an effeminate homosexual wasn't worth his time. 

Did other people see him as less than a man because he was with Jim? In a few short years, Blair went from broadcasting straight and available to signaling faggot. After picking up the remote, Blair put his feet on the coffee table as he lay back on the sofa and turned on the morning news. 

After eating his cereal standing up, Jim sat down with his coffee beside Blair. In those moccasins, Blair's feet looked so cute and tiny. "You should eat and take your feet off the table." Looking at Blair in the torn jeans and pink tied-dyed t-shirt, Jim wondered if Blair wanted people to see the stereotype. 

"I'm not into breakfast. I'll get a sandwich before heading to the precinct," Blair put his feet back on the floor and knocked off his shoes. Blair pushed his head against the back on the sofa making his hair spread out around his head like a halo. 

"Make one of your algae shakes." Jim started to stroke Blair's curls between his fingers unable to resist Blair's charm a moment longer. Jim told himself that he needed to listen to the news a moment and get his pulse back to normal. Blair looked so breath taking but Jim had to leave for work in twenty minutes and he wouldn't make it if he started to give into the temptation to touch the nearly edible creature beside him. 

"I'm out of wheat grass." Blair put his feet on Jim's lap and stretched his toes knowing that Jim was eying his feet since he sat down. "Don't you have to head to the precinct?" 

"Not for another twenty minutes." Jim started to fondle one of Blair's feet. "You have such cute little feet." Jim started suck on Blair toes. 

Blair squirmed a little as Jim moved his fingertips over his foot trying not to go into jump from sensation that traveled from his foot to the rest of his body. "Leave off the feet, Man." Blair tried to relax, but his feet were rather ticklish. 

"You put them on my lap." Jim popped Blair's big toe back into his mouth. 

"At least, they don't stink up the house like yours, Sasquatch." 

"You should get your book bag and head off to school," Jim said between toes. 

"Yes, Mom." Blair pulled his foot from Jim's grasp and put his moccasins back on before grapping his keys and backpack then remembered to put on his fall jacket. He wasn't layered in flannel like other mornings. 

Jim walked toward the door toward Blair as Blair adjusted the backpack on his shoulder. "Baby, why are you dressing this way?" 

"Because I can. I'm seeing Gary about the book. He hates that I look like a pansy. Sometimes, I feel all the world sees is an empty-headed faggot. Although Gary has read my research, he implied that I was only in the Cascade PD because I gave you good head." Blair knew he was giving signals off that said he was no longer interested in women. Knowing about defense mechanisms didn't stop him from using them. 

"I know that you can't always blow off what people say, but you shouldn't add fuel to their fire. Besides, you give fantastic head." 

"I love you so much. Why must people say things like, 'Sandburg must be wonderful in bed or Ellison would have thrown him out long ago'?" 

"You're wonderful in bed." 

"True, but I was also a good cop." 

"The best. Love you." Jim gave Blair a brief kiss. 

* * *

Captain Dawkins hollered soon after Sandburg sat down at an empty desk to type files. "Sandburg, this isn't a campus party, lose the love beads." 

"Sir, I'm just here observing," Sandburg said getting up from Wilcox's terminal. "You agreed that I could sit in the office and observe your men for my book. I only teach one morning class on Friday." 

"In my office," Dawkins said. 

"Yes, Sir," Sandburg sat in one of the chairs in Dawkins's office and closed the door. "The men asked me to come in and help type." 

"If you were one of my men, I would ask you to get a haircut and a change of clothes." 

"I'm decent." 

"You're hair is too long, you're wearing jewelry and your shirt is pink, and your jeans have more holes than my five year olds." Dawkins's brown skin was starting to turn red. 

"And your point, Sir." Blair shook his hair and pushed his glasses back on his nose moving his head slightly forward at the same time. Gary Holdeman had only stared at him a moment before they got to business on the textbook. Gary didn't say a word about the way Blair had dressed but hurried through their meeting like just being in the same room as Blair Sandburg was an embarrassment. Blair didn't know dressing flamboyantly gave him power or took it away. It was strange the power a piece of clothing had. 

"Just get out of my office." Dawkins put his fist down on his desk. "Ellison." Dawkins hollered next. 

"Sir," Ellison said. 

"I don't know why I let you talk me into giving your boyfriend an observer pass. As it is, you are standing on my last nerve, but you close more cases than any other detective. Your closure rate is nothing short of miraculous. If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I would think that you beat confessions out of preps. You just give them a look over and they tell you everything. I don't know how you do it." 

As Dawkins was talking, Sandburg made his way to the door. 

"Sandburg, sit yourself back down. I'm not done with you, young man," Captain Dawkins said. 

"You told me to leave," Sandburg said. 

"I don't know what games you two played with Captain Banks, but that shit doesn't fly here," Captain Dawkins said. "Just because Ellison is a damn good cop doesn't give you the right to walk in here and make yourself at home." 

"I came here as a favor to Wilcox and Brown; they left me several files to enter into the computer," Sandburg said. "Since I'm unpaid, I really don't need to listen to this bullshit." 

"I could pull your pass," Dawkins said. 

"Go ahead. I finished the textbook. All I have left is to proofread it," Sandburg said. "As I said, I'm here as a favor to your men." 

"Sandburg, next time, you visit the precinct tone it down. Dismissed." 

Sandburg left the office. 

"Ellison, did you bring him here this morning to embarrass me? I was planning to invite you over for Thanksgiving dinner now I'm afraid he'll embarrass me in front of my four children,' Dawkins said. 

"I'll tell him to tone it down." 

"He didn't dress like this in Cascade." 

"He wore flannel. I think that is his way of protesting the broken heater." Ellison grinned slightly. 

"If you haven't noticed, it was fixed this morning." 

"I'm grateful. Sandburg was talking about playing his jungle music; it was getting close to ninety in here." Ellison allowed himself to smile. 

"My wife thinks that we should open our house to our new detective. If I invite you, will your boyfriend will being wearing pants, no pink, lavender, and no jewelry? If you don't get my drift, I will not invite either one of you to my house ever. I expect you both there at four. You can bring a dish or dessert if you like." 

"Sandburg is vegan." He was going to ask if Sandburg could wear his nipple ring, but Dawkins wouldn't think it was funny. 

"Your skinny boyfriend doesn't eat meat. I heard it all now." 

"Just make some salad and cook a few potatoes to the side. He can bring his own food." 

"I'm sure Emily can make himself that he will eat. Next Thursday, four o'clock." 

"Yes, Sir." 

"Ellison, what are you doing to get confessions out of most of the preps that come through here?" Dawkins asked. 

"Nothing." 

"You're doing something. I was about to accuse you of police brutality until I saw that you weren't touching the suspects." 

"Nothing. Smiling when they tell the truth and frowning when they don't. Sandburg pointed this one to me when we started working together. You can get the truth out of most people as long as they aren't sociopaths and pathological liars." 

"Sandburg can get a confession out of a three hundred pound biker?" Dawkins asked. 

"Yes." 

Dawkins laughed. "That guy typing files can make someone twice his size confess." 

"There are physiological indicators that tell other people that you're lying. I'm teaching Whittier, Wilcox and Brown to use them. Brown couldn't believe how easy it was to read people. He wondered why no one bothered to show him this years ago. Whittier can tell if witnesses are lying and lead them to tell the truth. It saves us time." Whittier wasn't as good at it as Sandburg, but she only learned the technique in September. Sandburg taught her to read body language as he taught her how to help a sentinel. 

"I'm sure it does." 

Jim didn't want Dawkins to know about his enhanced senses. "The line, 'I know your lying and I'm just a cop; what do you think the judge is going to think?' has brought more confessions than any other statement." 

"It still helps that you are scary looking." 

"Of course. I can give preps looks like if they don't confess that I'll kill them in an instant. Unfortunately, Whittier and Sandburg don't have that gift." 

"Get out of here." 

Ellison looked over Sandburg's shoulder a moment then returned to his own desk. Whittier handed Ellison a file. "We need to questions two more witness about the drive-by shooting," she said. 

"I'll grab my coat." Ellison picked up his jacket then walked past Sandburg. "Can I leave you alone with Captain Dawkins? Promise you won't get on his last nerve." 

"After I finish typing, I'll head home. I have papers to grade. I want to post the grades before the Thanksgiving holiday. I don't know what is worse; typing these files or grading freshman papers." 

"You could go back to being a cop." 

"I prefer not being shot at on the regular basis. Do you want eat at home or go out?" 

"Let's eat at home so you have more time to read those ninety some odd papers," Ellison said. 

"You're going to rub it in all weekend." Professor Sandburg, who was always smiling even when explaining why a paper a student turned in shouldn't be handed into a fifth grade teacher nevertheless a college professor, had wondered if California's educational system was worse than Washington State's or if it was just him. If it weren't for a few brilliant observations of a rare student, he would never get through reading any of the papers. The other anthropology professor didn't assign her first year students' papers and he assigned them two. 

"The pink shirt was a bit much." 

"I thought it was the jewelry that pushed Dawkins over the edge." 

Ellison leaned over Sandburg and kissed him briefly. "See you tonight." 

"Sandburg," Dawkins hollered after Whittier and Ellison left the floor. There must have been something to do with being promoted to Captain that caused your voice to make other people's blood curdle. 

Sandburg finished the sentence that he was typing and walked to Dawkins office. He wasn't going to let Dawkins see that he was intimated. "Sir." 

"Ellison says that you taught him psychological techniques to get honesty from suspects." 

"Yes. Many police forces in the nation use them. Most people give off visible signs that they are lying: frown lines, eyes movements, shaking of the hands, increase in sweat or heart rate." 

"You can see someone's heart rate go up." 

"Blush. You can feel a rise in temperature or a pulse go up with the lightest touch. I can teach anyone to be observant to these clues." 

"I want a demonstration of this." 

"I expect a consulting fee." 

"If you can demonstrate that this works, I'll paid you your fee and even have you teach an in-service class. If you are pulling my leg, I'll take your observer pass and not pay you a dime." Dawkins wasn't lying. 

"Understood." 

"If I interrogate someone, I expect to have a police officer accompanying me at all time." 

"Of course. Sandburg, you are dismissed." 

* * *

Jim arrived home around nine. "Baby, how was your day?" 

"I'm nearly through that stack. They all read the same after a while. I can't tell if one deserves an A or a B. I feel like they are all mediocre. If I wasn't kind hearted; they would all get Cs or worse, be told to write in English, and to buy a copy of Shrunk and White." 

"Lay back," Jim said as he started to massage Blair's neck and shoulders. 

"I'm told that I'm the only professor that requires two papers and has two exams plus a final for an introductory course. I can't help if I want my students to learn something." 

"Don't grade them for grammar. It's anthropology not English. Save yourself the trouble." 

"You would think half the class was taking English as a second language." 

Jim removed Blair's tee shirt. "Let me get the tension out of your body." 

Blair relaxed as Jim's hands massaged his shoulders. "That feels so good." 

"Captain Dawkins wants us to come over for Thanksgiving dinner. His wife always invites the new detectives each year. So do you want to go?" 

"After the pink shirt?" Blair moaned as Jim's hands moved over his back. "He acted like I was wearing an unbuttoned, lavender shirt and a gold necklace." 

"And make-up?" Jim laughed. 

"After Halloween, I don't do dresses or make-up," Blair said. 

"He told me to make sure that you dress appropriately. I'm sorry that I missed dinner, but we ended talking to several more witnesses. Once you can get one person to speak out, the rest come forward. Robin was taking statements from half the neighborhood; I thought we would never finish." 

"Been there, done that. Dinner will keep. Did you tell him that I was vegan?" 

"His wife will make something you can eat. You can bring a side dish, just in case." 

"Why not?" 

"Can't you wear flannel like you did Cascade?" 

"I'm no longer a poor college student. I'll wear the blue silk shirt that you like so much." Blair remembered opening the box Christmas morning with a note saying something that isn't flannel. That was their first Christmas together. Now that he was vegan, he never could find a definitive answer on what to do with things bought before he changed his lifestyle. 

"I won't be able to keep my hands off you the entire meal." 

"I like the sound of that." 

Jim turned on the news. "Chief, I was never ashamed of our relationship in Cascade, but you don't need to flaunt it." 

"I didn't think I was. I feel very domestic since we are no longer working together. It's nice to know you'll be home every night." 

"How is the textbook going?" 

"Gary has proofread more and he gave me another chapter to look over. We're making progress. I should call him so we meet and argue about out differences. Gary didn't speak to me more than ten minutes the last time we met. I need to know what he is thinking. I hate the way he is so condescending to me." 

"Just grade those papers this weekend." 

* * *

It was decided to watch the game at the Patel household. Robin Whittier didn't take her husband's name at work because she had earned a reputation with her maiden name and didn't want to do anything that would reduce her reputation of being a tough cop despite being small and female. Her husband understood at the time; what was he going to do leaving a 6-figure income to go back to the old country? Although the other detectives had a habit on calling him Mr. Whittier, he tolerated it and tried not to correct them twenties times a visit.

Robin was sitting at the kitchen table, not really thinking, not really doing much more than breathing. She heard the doorbell ring, but she didn't have the strength or desire to get up. Her daughter, Tonya, would get it. Tonya trampled down the steps like an elephant. She must have been wearing her combat boots, again. Combat boots, oversized jeans and sweatshirt, and baseball hats turned backwards. 

Tonya yelled from the foyer. "The drag queen is here and comes bearing food." 

Robin yelled back from the kitchen. "Tonya, don't insult our guests." The drag queen in question must have been Blair Sandburg, her new partner's life companion. Blair wasn't a drag queen as far as she knew. He just had the misfortune of being beaten while in a dress. 

"Blair, put the food in the kitchen." Robin slowly made her way to the door. She had an exhausting week; Jay was working long hours and Jim and she solved two major cases during the week. 

"Where is your boyfriend?" Tonya asked as she followed Blair from the living room to the kitchen. 

"At work." Blair set the Tupperware lasagna dish on the kitchen table. "He is busy at forensics. He just called to tell me he needed to breath down the ME's back. Phone calls weren't working." 

"Forensics has only half a staff on Sunday. He'll be there for hours." Robin looked at the casserole. "Jim raves about your lasagna. I finally get to try it." 

Blair shrugged his shoulders. "Wilcox is bringing steaks to grill. I wanted something without red meat for you and Jay." 

"Jay is at work, too. You know the routine. Take advantage of the new guy." Robin put the lasagna in the refrigerator. "Thanks for thinking of me." 

"I'll be in my room, and I'm not eating that stuff. Lasagna isn't supposed to be green." Tonya scrunched up her nose. 

"It has spinach in it," said Blair. 

Tonya held her nose and said, as she was leaving, "Gross." 

"Maybe, you can teach me how to meditate." Robin looked so tired. Jay had only returned to work last month. Blair was sure it was quite an adjustment. 

"Some other time. I'll make you some tea. Where are the tea bags?" 

"In the cabinet over the stove." Robin watched Blair fill a saucepan with water. Then he sat beside Robin. He got up a couple time to check the water. On his third time up, he placed three mugs on the counter by the stove and put a Lipton teabag in each. After turning off the stove, he carefully poured water in each mug. The third cup must have been for Tonya. 

After dragging herself to the foyer, Robin yelled up the stairs, "Tonya, Blair made tea. Would you like to join us in the kitchen?" 

"I don't have to talk to him," Tonya shouted loud enough for the people in the neighboring row houses to hear. 

Blair walked over to Robin and placed a hand on her shoulder. "She doesn't have to join us." 

Robin said, "She shouldn't be rude to my guests." 

"The guys will be over for the game in a little while. We should put out some finger food." Blair removed the teabags from the mugs and handed Robin a mug. Blair sat on the metal kitchen chair, watched the shadows cross the table and drank his tea. 

Blair could hear Tonya on the stairs, then in the living room/hallway between the stairs and the kitchen. Tonya turned on lights as she went through the narrow three-bedroom house. "Why are you and the faggot drinking tea in the dark?" 

Robin put a tray of prepared appetizers into the oven and set the timer. "Blair has a name." 

"Join us. Have some tea." Robin didn't like that her daughter wore her baseball cap in the house. 

"I don't mind," said Blair. 

"You don't mind a lot of things that you should," Robin said. 

"I've been called worse," said Blair. "Ever try being the only Jewish boy in a one-horse Southern town. Then there're the usual jokes children play on the new kid, especially when he is short and wears glasses." 

"I'm leaving." The girl stepped out the backdoor. 

"Let's take a walk," said Robin. "I could use fresh air, too. The food needs thirty minutes. I'll keep an eye on my watch." 

"What about the tea?" 

"Later. I need to clear my head. Scotty is at Matthew's house. Tonya doesn't listen to me. The children are used to Jay being home with them; I feel like a stranger in my own house." 

"I can come back a half an hour before the game." 

"Do you have those moments when you don't trust yourself alone?" 

"Not really. Jim does. He calls me constantly if I'm out of town for any reason. I was at a science fiction convention to talk about primate development and he had to go cross-country with me. He couldn't bare to be alone for two nights." 

"Isn't Jim a fan?" 

"Not really. He stopped watching Star Trek with the old generation." Blair finished his tea. 

"When Scotty is home, he sits in his room and won't open the door. Tonya talks to me only to curse me and order me around; Jay is never around to help." Robin gasped and dropped her teacup. "Tonya isn't the only one with anger issues. I feel so helpless." Robin put on her jacket. "Let's go for that walk. The walls are closing in." 

Blair opened the door for Robin. 

"A gentleman," said Robin. 

Blair hoped Robin didn't think he was being patronizing. "I hold the door for men and women. I wouldn't want a door slammed on my face." 

Robin locked the door and pockets the key. "Me, either." Blair walked beside Robin careful not to rub against her. Robin's row house was on an incline then again all of San Francisco was hills. "So are you're a fan of science fiction. We went to Baycon every year." 

"I read fantasy as a college student to distract me from my studies. Sometimes, one needs to rest the mind. A girlfriend suggested that I talk at a panel about sentinels; she knew I was researching them." 

"You didn't talk about Jim." 

"That was before meeting Jim." How dare Robin suggest that he cheated on Jim? He dated a few women while he lived with Jim but in the back of his mind he knew that Jim and him had more than friendship or that weird bond caused by Jim's need for a guide; Blair knew that Jim and him had made a lifetime commitment to each other long before the words were spoken. "I have been on many panels. I have spoke on many literary topics as an expert on anthropology including cultural diversity, definition of God, use of myth, and ecological devastation. A few people have suggested that I write fiction but it would quite a change from writing textbooks or scientific research." Blair realized that he was talking trivia. "I got a little carried away." 

"Does Jim like these things?" Robin preferred to keep the conversation light. 

Blair had a look in his eye like he was processing information as he called it. "Although Jim has no problem holding his own in an intellectual conversation, he prefers to hang out in the anime room." 

"Jay is a big fan of anime. We have dozens of DVDs." Robin and Blair decided to walk uphill so the walk back would be easier. 

"Don't tell Jim. He'll be asking to borrow them." Two college age girls went by on inline stakes. Blair's eyes followed them. 

"You look at every pretty girl that passes by. You told me that you hadn't looked at a man until twenty-six and the comments about eighteen year old girls. Jim told me that he was born gay. Why are you deceiving him like this? That man is deeply in love with you." 

"So I look." 

"You don't look at men. You'll end up hurting Jim in the long run. He deserves better than the crap you're feeding him." 

"I love him." 

"You are mistaking love for gratitude. You told me that Jim saved your life and you doubt that Jim would be able to manage without you. Blair, you can't base your life on protecting someone else." 

"I know what I feel. I'm not living with him because I'm afraid that he would hurt himself if I leave. Jim is a gorgeous man. As Susan Sarandon said about Catherine Deneuve in 'The Hunger' that you didn't need to be drunk to want to sleep with her. Sometimes, I wonder what a man as handsome as him wants with a nerdy professor." 

"Were you a virgin before you met Jim?" Maybe he could deceive himself because he never been with a woman so he didn't know what he was missing, but Blair had known he was straight before sleeping with Jim. Blair flirted with women, even her. Could Blair feel an obligation to Jim because of the sentinel/guide relationship? Did he feel that since Jim wanted him so badly that he had to give into him? 

"I won't even qualify that with an answer." Blair didn't ask about her sex life; she shouldn't have asked about his. So he mentioned that he had girlfriends before meeting Jim, it wasn't her business what he did or didn't do with them. Blair was trying not to become angry by Robin's assumption. 

"Jim watches those action/adventures movies for the same reason I do. Let him go; let him find a man like himself." 

"Robin, it isn't that simple. Have you ever loved someone so much that everything that happened before doesn't matter?" 

"Are you going to feel that way, ten, twenty years from now?" 

"When you married Jay did you know how you were going to feel about him in fifteen years?" 

"When I married Jay, I hardly knew him. It was an arranged marriage. My family knew his family. He was a software engineer in India. His family arranged for us to get married so he could have a reason to come to this country," Robin said. "Blair, I'm sorry. It's a little unsettling to hear you talk of your old girlfriends one sentence and Jim the next." 

"Jim's hormones make him go after women that smell a certain way, but that isn't love; that's some weird sentinel thing. Jim and I have this mythical relationship that defiles all reason." Blair didn't understand it himself. "I don't need your criticism because I am bisexual. There is a lot of gray in this universe. We all don't fit in little packages." 

"Then, why do you call yourself gay?" Robin extended her hand to him. 

Blair looked in her eyes as he took her hand. "Because saying that I'm bisexual would imply that I'm cheating on Jim and if I lived another hundred years, I would never betray him." He knew he wasn't going to live a hundred years, two or three, at best. He was living on borrowed time, time Jim stole when he took him out of Death's embrace. Knowing that his time was fleeting made it all that much more precious. 

"It's just that years go by quickly and you could be just as happy with a woman. Will you have regrets in thirty years when other people your age are showing pictures of their grandchildren?" 

"I might. Many straight couples choose not to have children. We can't predict the future. Jim could die tomorrow in a shoot out. Each day is a gift and I want to spend them with the man I love." 

"The guys should be here an moment," Robin said as she turned back down the hill. "We could talk during the game." 

"I'm going to watch the game with the guys." Blair didn't know if that was insult or compliment. Was she implying that his interests were more diverse than football or that he wasn't one of the guys? Most likely, it wasn't intended as an insult. Many men including her husband didn't care for American football. 

Jim called Blair's cell phone. "ME said, 'the body is going anywhere.'" 

"Why did you bother that man on Sunday?" 

"He did the preliminary work on the body. I needed to know if it was murder or suicide now. It couldn't wait until Monday." 

"You're going to question suspects on a Sunday?" 

"No suspects. It was ruled a suicide." 

"I'm not watching the game with Wilcox and Brown without you." 

"I'll be right over," Jim agreed. 

* * *

During his Monday afternoon class, Sandburg stepped out to answer his cell phone. "I'm teaching a class right now." 

"Come down to Narcotics and help out with an interrogation." 

Sandburg repeated, "I'm teaching a class." 

"He'll keep," Captain Dawkins said before hanging up. 

Sandburg drove to the station after he finished teaching the class. The arresting officer handed Dr. Sandburg the suspect's statement. Sandburg pushed his glasses back on his nose and looked over the documents. 

The officer said, "You're going to get a confession?" 

"That's what I'm here for. I need you to look scary, listen and learn. Let's get this over with. I have office hours this afternoon." 

The officer escorted Dr. Sandburg to the interrogation room where the suspect was waiting. Dr. Sandburg sat down opposite the suspect and looked him in the eye. "I'm Dr. Sandburg, a part-time consultant for the SFPD. I would like to go over your statement." 

"Doctor?" The suspect rolled his eyes. 

"Anthropology," Dr. Sandburg said. 

The suspect looked at the tabletop. 

"Anthropology is closely related to sociology. Social workers often talk to suspects." Dr. Sandburg repeated the man's name and checked it off as correct. As they spoke, Dr. Sandburg would stop writing and give the suspect a stare. After less than an hour, Dr. Sandburg gave the corrected statement to the officer outside the interrogation room. 

"What were you doing in there?" the officer asked. 

"We will talk in a conference room," Dr. Sandburg said. After they were seated in a conference room. "Gonzalez quickly learned that I wouldn't write down his lies. This method won't guarantee you the truth. You could have a staring contest but Gonzalez realized that he wasn't leaving until he told me the truth." 

"Couldn't you be staring at each other all night? How do you know if someone will crack?" 

"Heart rate, perspiration. If they are going up, good chance they will crack. If they are constant, you're wasting their time and yours. I interrogated a boy fourteen hours before he cracked." 

"How do you get a pulse?" 

"Same way a nurse does. Since you are checking for increase, you only need a three to five second check. It isn't like you are putting your hand on his wrist for a whole minute. If I get to do the in-service, I'll show you several places on the body that you can get a good pulse and not be conspicuous." 

"Is this scientific?" 

"Many police department throughout the world monitor microexpressions to see if someone's lying." 

"I'll have Captain Dawkins get back to you. Thank you for your time," the officer said. 

Dr. Sandburg stopped at personnel to submit his paperwork for his consulting fee and then headed back to the university. He had several students at his office waiting to see him. Dr. Sandburg had them sign in and talked to them one at a time. He was surprised that a few students listened and were willing to visit him during his office hours. 

* * *

Professor Sandburg walked to his car wondering if he was expecting too much from his freshman level class. He had never seen such poor work at Rainer. He wanted his students to learn foremost. He hated giving bad grades if he could he would give each student an A or B on their written work. The students were just as good as exams as the students at Rainer had been. Sandburg was teaching them the material; it was just that these students didn't care enough to write proper sentences or didn't know how. He didn't have the strength to take on the California Board of Education for gradating these students from high school. He looked at the red sport car in the near empty faculty lot as he approached it. "See you soon. I love you," he said to into his cell phone as he started his car; Jim always called when he was on his way home. 

Blair told Jim about his students' reaction to their grades as he warmed himself food in the microwave. Jim put his arms around Blair as Blair ate on the sofa in front of the SCIFI channel. "Honey, maybe I shouldn't have graded them so hard." 

"You're a new at the university. You'll learn their abilities as you teach more classes." Jim stroked Blair's loose curls. 

"The students looked shocked at their low grades. A student whispered to another student as I passed that she never received a C before. I occasionally wish I had your hearing as I roam the hall of the university." 

"You would hate knowing what your students think about you." 

"Probably. They probably think I have a stick up my butt. They're probably whispering that I grade so hard because I'm not getting enough." Blair took his empty plate to the sink, rinsed it and placed it in dishwasher. 

"We have dinner at the Dawkins's place Thursday. Did you make a dish to bring?" 

"I'll do in Thursday morning. Baby, miss you so much when I'm at work." 

"I know that the students get you down." 

"I just expected more. I don't want to lower my standards." 

"Then, don't. Make the students raise theirs." 

"That'll take work. Honey, at Rainer, I was seen as a hard ass to many of my students. I didn't bend then; I won't bend now. It was just that these students seemed to be trying harder and getting less for their effort." 

"Remind them to visit you during your office hours. You tell me that you sit there many days without a visitor." 

"The university is so impersonal and competitive that the students are afraid to ask for help." 

"Write notes on their papers that you would like to talk to them about certain points of confusion. Be willing to listen." 

"I really try to be a good teacher." 

"I know that you do. Come on, Baby." Jim put his arms around Blair. "Kick your shoes off and relax." 

"I have no right to complain when you make life and death decisions every day. I want to make a difference in my students' lives." 

"I'm sure that you do. Baby, let's go to bed." 

Blair kissed Jim briefly. "Hold me." 

"All night, Darling. How did you talk with the Captain go?" 

"He's going to talk to the commissioner about me conducting in-services for several departments between Thanksgiving and Christmas." 

"What will you be teaching?" 

"Sentinel training for cops without enhanced senses." Blair smiled. "Why should you be the only one to benefit from my instruction?" 

* * *

Blair put on his blue silk shirt, navy dress slacks and dress shoes Thursday afternoon. "I don't want Captain Dawkins to think I'm dressing unprofessionally." 

"You look like a teacher," Jim said. "Mrs. Dawkins will be impressed." 

"I can't believe your boss told you that I need to wear pants." Blair walked his fingers up Jim's chest. "I should wear a hula skirt." 

"And a pink lei." 

"Shit, I don't have one and it would take to long to order over the Internet." Grass skirts were traditional male attire. The flowers would have to be real, no plastic party store lei. 

"I guess you'll have to wear pants." Jim put his hand through Blair's hair. "The nerve of him to tell me how to you should dress." 

"He's your boss, not mine. I haven't had naked ears since graduating from the academy. My fingers touching my naked ears would be more noticeable than small hoops or studs." 

"You have a point. Wear your gold hoops. They're tasteful." 

Blair flicked his hair back. "I noticed how your tongue pulls on them. They're 18k yellow gold, not cheap 14k. You can taste the difference?" 

Jim licked one of Blair's ears. "Goodness gracious, naked ears. Reminds me of your academy days." Jim returned to licking Blair's ear. 

Blair pushed on Jim in a playful way. "Cut that out or we'll miss dinner." Blair actually wouldn't mind missing dinner. Probably only his covered dish and the lettuce will be vegan. The beans were probably cooked in butter or with ham-hocks. A middle-aged Baptist woman wouldn't want a gay Christ-killer in her home. Might as well get it over with. "I made a green beans casserole last night. Do you think it would be rude for us to arrive a little early?" 

"You could work on your research as we wait." 

"Gary Holdeman and I are nearly done the book. If I look at it again, I'll scream." 

"Just relax. Watch the news or read that Piers Anthony book that you have been putting off." 

"I need to do more light reading. I don't spend enough time curled up around a good book." 

"I rather you were curled up around me." 

"Very true." Blair sat down with a paperback that one of his students recommended after he had mentioned that he was a feminist and a vegan: The Sexual Politics of Meat - A Feminist-Vegetarian Critical Theory by Carol J. Adams. It wasn't exactly light reading, but it kept his mind busy until it was time for them to leave. 

* * *

Mrs. Dawkins took their coats at the door and lead them to the living room. Emily Dawkins, a plump woman in a housedress, had more gray in her hair than Captain Dawkins. "Dinner will be served in a moment." 

"I brought a side dish," Blair stated. 

"Thanks, Blair. I place it on the table. John told me that you were vegan. The potatoes and sweet potatoes contain no meat products. I always cook for my husband's employees without pork in side dishes," said Mrs. Dawkins. "I doubt the margarine that I have is vegan." 

"I eat normal margarine," Blair was surprised that she took the effort to remove the animal products from her food but then he remembered that the Patels were Muslim; pork was prohibited in the Quran as well as the Holy Scriptures. "I don't want to be too much of an imposition." 

"I read the label on the bread and it contains milk," Emily Dawkins said, "so I made rolls from scratch. My oldest helped me make food for you." 

"I didn't expect you to buy all new groceries for me." 

A teenage girl in a sweater and jeans approached Blair. "You must be Professor Sandburg. I'm Dorothy. I'll start college next fall." 

"I wish you luck," Blair said. "Blair is fine." 

"I applied at Berkeley," Dorothy said. 

"It's a large university," Blair said. 

"That it is," Dorothy said. "I have a few friends that are vegetarian. I helped my mother read labels." 

Captain Dawkins lead the grace. Blair stood up and was silent during it. However, he could not bring himself to saying Amen after the words, "In Jesus' name." Jim, who hadn't gone to church since twelve, said Amen in a reflexive way. Then they sat down to eat. 

Blair tried not to talk about his reasons for not eating the turkey during the meal but Dawkins two middle children insisted on knowing by the third time they insisted that Blair try the flesh. Blair felt on the spot defending his reasons for not eating meat. At the university if someone were rude enough to comment about his choice not to eat dead animals, he would turn the tables and suggest that the obnoxious person should reconsider eating dead animals and choice to eat healthier. 

"You think we're wrong to eat animals," the second youngest, a boy of ten or eleven, asked. 

"No. It's a personal choice. After you read about factory farming, you'll never want to eat dead animals again. I could recommend a few books to read or you can locate a few books on your own through the Internet. I feel everyone has the right to know what went into the food they are eating," Blair said. "Would you like to borrow a couple of my books on the subject?" 

"Sure." 

"I'll bring them over tomorrow," Blair said. "There's no hurry to return them." 

"I'm sorry that the children kept pushing the turkey on you," Captain Dawkins said. 

"I understand that your wife went to much trouble to make it," Blair said. "I wanted your children to know that my refusal to eat it wasn't an attack on your wife's cooking." 

"You guys could stay and watch the game," Captain Dawkins said. 

"We may. Thank you so much for the meal," Jim replied. 

"You're more than welcome," Emily said. "John tells me that your reputation proceeds you. I heard that you and Blair had the highest closure rate in the State of Washington." 

"Sandburg and I made quite a team, but his first love is teaching," Jim said. 

"I tease Jim about working in Vice or Narcotics but I can do just as much for society helping young minds," Blair said. "It's rewarding to see one of my students open their eyes to the wonders of the world and go further that just reading the textbook and taking my word for everything." 

"Blair just finishing grading nearly eighty papers; he's a bit burned out," Jim said. 

"Sandburg, do you have a minute?" Captain Dawkins asked. 

"Sure," Blair said. 

"Narcotics was very impressed with the confession you took down. The commissioner wants to talk to you about teaching in-service to five departments. I really thought you were pulling my leg with the micromovement crap," Dawkins said. 

"Not at all. It takes a bit of concentration to do, but anyone can learn it," Blair said. "Pulse monitoring was Jim's idea. He was a medic in the army. He also thought that looking for increase levels of sweat and fidgeting helps you figure out who is seconds away from breaking." 

"I wouldn't have believed it," Dawkins said. "Would you mind working as a part-time consultant?" 

"I have a fairly heavy class load so I doubt I could come in more than twice a week," Blair said. 

"I'll push it through if you are interested," Dawkins said. 

"I'll call you back after the holiday. I can teach the in-services during January. I have a three week break between semesters." 

"I'll let the commissioner know." 

"This is a holiday. Work can wait until tomorrow," Emily Dawkins interrupted. "Leave the professor alone." 

"He's writing a book on police work and we were discussing him teaching a class," Dawkins said. 

"So has Jim been teaching this to the other officers in your department?" Blair asked. 

"He doesn't have the patience," Dawkins said. 

Blair shrugged his shoulders like it wasn't a big surprise. Jim could monitor people's reaction from across the room; he wasn't going to have patience with people that didn't catch on the first time. For non-sentinels, it wasn't second nature but took extreme concentration. 

* * *

As Blair was putting the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher, Jim opened the door to greet Naomi. Blair walked over to her and hugged her. "Mom, I didn't think you were coming."

"I got held up," Naomi said. "How are my boys?" 

"We're fine," Jim said. "Have a seat. Would you like some tea?" 

"I just ate breakfast on the way over," Naomi said. "What's new?" 

"I was asked to teach a class on body language for the police department," Blair said. "As I walk to the front of the conference room, I'll be laughed at." 

"There is nothing wrong with your body language," said Naomi. "You give off great karma." 

"My walk says faggot." Blair sat beside his mother. "I used look at gays and wonder if they knew what they were advertising." 

"Sweetie, you give good eye contact. You tell the person that you are speaking to that you are important to me." 

Blair put his hand on his chin exaggerating his body language. "I feel like I should know better than to give off these signals." 

"What are you doing now that you didn't do five years ago?" his mother asked. 

"At least a dozen little things, the way I put my hand on my hip, the movement of my chin, the movement of my eyes, I hated pointing these things out to myself when Gary Holdeman, my co-author, doesn't want to be seen with me." 

Naomi pointed out, "If you weren't doing them five years ago, there must be a reason that you do them now." 

"Megan says that I do them to tell women that the candy store is closed." Megan actually said the sweet shop but he didn't have use Aussie slang for his mother. 

"Or at least serving different customers," Jim teased. 

"I have no interest in anyone else." Blair knew that Jim liked these behaviors because they showed the world that Blair belonged to him but neither of them would ever admit such a thing. "Why would I be doing this? I have no interest in picking up men. Jim and I have always been exclusive." 

"Because they comfort me." Jim put his hand on Blair's arm a moment before returning to the kitchen. "You were the one that wrote I have fear-based reactions. I need constant reminding that you are only interested in me. Besides, I find all your little nervous movements so incredibly sexy." 

"I'm not Pavlov's dog salivating when I hear a whistle," Blair said defensively. 

"Behavior is more complex than that. We do many things subconsciously because we are rewarded for it," Naomi said playing amateur psychologist. 

"So Jim rewards me for acting like a pansy," Blair said. 

"More than Jim. As Megan pointed out, you no longer had to turn down the women in the office." Naomi didn't feel like explaining it further. 

"Gary doesn't want to work with me. My students whisper about me. How does this give me comfort?" 

"The same way that acting like a slut gives me comfort although I have never been loose. It allows me to give an image to the world to protect my own insecurities. Why do you think I never married?" 

"Because as soon a man talked about marriage, you left," Blair said. 

"Why do you think I left?" his mother asked putting her hand under her chin, making stronger eye contact. 

"You said you were a free spirit." 

"I was afraid. I didn't want a man to hurt me like I had been hurt before. I keep everybody at a distance. We all play games to protect ourselves. Do the class on body language for the police department and don't allow your insecurities to get the best of you," Naomi said. "Everybody gives out sub-context." 

Blair laughed. "Jim's usual sub-context is if you look at me funny, I'll break you in two." 

"You can start your lecture by saying that we all give off sub-context and micromovements are caused when we go against that sub-context." Jim never thought about it; he simply read people's body language and acted upon it. It was like those thousands of smells he could identify but not name. Just because he could read people didn't mean he could explain what he was reading. 

"We could do some window shopping then we could go out for lunch," Blair said. 

"We'll take the Hyundai," Naomi said. 

As Blair stepped into the Hyundai, his cell phone rang. "Did you decide if you want a position as a part-time consultant? The commissioner will pay you on the case by case basis." 

"You asked me yesterday. I'll call back Tuesday with my decision. A few days ago, you were going to throw me and my observer pass out on the street for being an embarrassment to the department." 

"If I hire you, you'll dress professional. I don't insist that you cut your hair, but it'll be tied back in a professional manner." 

"Captain Banks didn't keep me around because I'm an idiot." 

"I don't care how good you are. You act like a clown; you're out. I'll find someone else to teach micromovements." The cell phone went dead; Dawkins must have hung up. 

Jim took Blair's hand as they walked around the factory outlet. "Baby, do the class?" 

"When did I start acting like a faigelah?" Blair asked. 

"When you were in the academy? You had a lot on your mind," Jim said. 

"It must be a defense mechanism. I was receiving abuse for calling myself a fraud. The guys teased that I was only in the academy because I was Ellison's boytoy. When they said things like you only keep me around because I was good in bed, I could smile because I knew that I wasn't only good in bed but I was a damn good cop; better, than those guys teasing me." 

Jim said, "It was a wonderful gesture that you sacrificed your dignity for me." 

Blair kissed Jim. "I sacrificed my dignity when I called myself a fraud. I had to find a way to regain my dignity." 

"By convincing everyone that you were so crazy in love with me that you imagined me to be a sentinel." Jim squeezed Blair's hand. 

"Exactly. It's easier to obfuscate when it is based on the truth. Any fool could see that I was obsessed with you. Funny, I gained respect at the academy as the weeks went on; they were laughing with me; no longer at me." After letting go of Jim's hand, he touched Jim's arm momentarily. "But that lie is long over. I have my doctorate and I'm earning respect as a professor." 

"You're still getting positive feedback for it," his mother said. 

"Our behaviors change on the daily basis." Jim wasn't the cold man that Blair met years ago. Jim was openly affectionate and more adapt to romance than his partner. He still had problems allowing the house to stay dirty more than a few minutes, but he didn't jump down Blair's throat about dirty towels; it was easier to pick them up himself and keep the linen closet full of clean towels. All books stayed in their proper place in the bookcase except for the few that Blair was currently reading or using for a project. Like Oscar Madison and Felix Unger, their behavior had become more alike since they started living together. 

"It only proves that I draw strength from you," Blair said. "I can never thank you enough for standing by me during the rough times. Your father called frequently to tell me to leave you and you stood by me through it all." 

"That's what love is all about." Jim kissed Blair briefly. "I'll always love you." 

"I'm going into the lady's shop. I'll meet you boys in an hour at the food court. Go look at tools or computer games," Naomi said. 

* * *

End Thanksgiving by Dana: athena@fateordestiny.com

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